Calm After The Storm
by ShayaCatalyst
Summary: -"The headlines the next morning would scream hysterically about 'Demon Raisers' or proclaim only slightly less hysterically 'Malfoy Family Again Entrenched in Dark Deeds' and now 'Thirty Suspects Held Awaiting Trial'" Eventual AS/S. PLEASE R&R!
1. Chapter 1

(A/N So I finally finished one of my summer-reading books, and decided to reward myself with some fan fiction, so I sat down with a pen, and this is what came out. I think it'll turn into a fairly decent sized chapter-fic, and yes, it will end up being slash, so if you don't like that and read this anyway, you're pretty dumb.

Also, just as a warning, I wrote this under the influence of too much Jane Austen, and I think it shows. It won't all be this flowery, but I think it works for this kind of prologue.)

There's a child who scuttles through the attics like a rat. He knows the house like the back of his hand, but when his mother occasionally prevails on him to clean up is appearance and join his parents for dinner, the pale, scrawny boy they are presented with blinks in the unaccustomed brightness of the dining room.

Though an unquestionably clever child, he does not learn to speak properly until he begins to spend regular periods of time in the company of other human beings when his education starts at the age of five, for around the age he'd begun to toddle around the floor on his own, his parents' already tenuous relationship began to dissolve in earnest, and in their unhappiness the boy was often neglected.

In finding himself largely unsupervised he explored every nook and cranny of the house which had lost the bulk of its luster long ago. He almost never missed more than a meal or two before one or both of his parents recalled his existence, but before long even that care became unnecessary, as the child learned to find his way to the kitchen and feed himself, in a piecemeal way.

He also took to sleeping in an abandoned turret of the house, Malfoy Manor, spurning the room which had been his as a very small child, which his parents had prepared at is birth, and which was never redecorated.

And so he grew into an odd youth, bookish but not particularly studious, a nocturnal prowler of the old house in all its crumbling grandeur. He filled his scantily furnished tower room (which neither of his parents could locate or had laid eyes on) with trinkets, moldering texts and antique novels, and long-forgotten treasures and heirlooms, which he collected with a magpie-like fervor.

asasasasasasasasasasasasasas

The boy was sent off to school in an unexceptionable manner, where he was sorted with little ceremony and less deliberation into Ravenclaw. He was considered by nearly everyone he came across to be unusually grave and silent for an eleven-year-old, and many would have been content to assume him simple, were it not for the house into which he'd been sorted.

He began a few friendly acquaintances, but made no real friend. Perhaps it was only that he was so quiet, but perhaps the lack of intimacy could be explained by the slightly feral air which clung to him still.

His years at school proceeded fairly quietly for some time, and after a while he came to form one close friendship, with the elderly Madam Pince, who retained the post of Librarian. On Sundays, when the Library was closed, she would invite the boy to tea in her rooms, to discuss any of the multitude of books he devoured week after week.

His mother abandoned husband and child to elope abroad when the boy was thirteen, but his life was not greatly effected, despite the fact that he rarely heard from her thereafter. Shortly after Mrs. Malfoy's defection, however, the boy's father, Draco, began renewing a few friendships of his youth, particularly with former Death Eaters, their families, or those who had been known to support the cause of that extinct group.

In renewing the aforementioned acquaintances, and in his rejection by his wife and subsequent divorce, Draco had begun to acquire a certain violence of character which had been missing even in the most damnable episodes of his youth. The new-found violence was given an outlet when his son came home for the Easter holidays at the age of fourteen holding an envelope from the headmaster, the contents of which detailed the unacceptable number of absences from class Scorpius had accumulated over the previous term (for while the boy had neither the inclination nor opportunity to get into much mischief , he was very apt to miss a class for no better reason than losing track of the time while engrossed in an advanced book on the very subject of the class he was missing).

The very existence of his father's unprecedented rage and violence shocked Scorpius almost as much as the shouts and blows which were the result, and when Draco roused himself, in a fit of remorse, to apologize and see how his son fared, Scorpius had already disappeared into the dark, twisting upper-reaches of the house which none could fathom but him.

The incident caused a marked difference on the attitude of the house, and also signified a clear division of territory when Scorpius was home. The kitchen was neutral, and none entered the dining room, site of those few and far between family dinners, and the boy inhabited the third floor and attics for his nocturnal rambling and diurnal rest, while Draco inhabited the first and second floors, but mostly the basement, as he plotted and schemed and stewed in a feeling of ill-use and an instability bordering on madness which ran in his mother's line.

The house, in all its dust and decay, radiated malevolence and division. Anyone should have been able to see that it was only a matter of time….

TO BE CONTINUED….

PLEASE, just review. It will make me so happy….


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N -First of all, this is a little bit filler, a little bit introduction, and a little bit characterization. I swear in the next chapter I will introduce the action the plot will center around yes, there will be a plot. Bear with me here. Secondly, I don't think Draco's really abusive or all that cruel, I think he's really screwed up and as I said a little it crazy. He made a mistake, and Scorpius certainly isn't going to let him atone for it, so the screwed up and crazy will only get worse.

A million thanks to Potions For Foxes, my lone reviewer who made my day and motivated me to finish this chapter. I tell you, reviews make my life, in a way that's slightly pathetic. Take a minute to make a poor girl's day.

Finally, as if I had to tell you, I don't own it. Any of it, really. It's all JK)

At the age of fifteen, Albus Potter was finally fulfilling a childhood dream and joining his father on one of the raids which were a part of Harry's duties as an Auror. Ever since Albus decided he might like to follow that very career himself, he'd used the aspiration to wheedle, cajole and generally coerce Harry into today's adventure.

Said adventure consisted of checking Malfoy Manor and its inhabitants for dark objects, action or plotting. It was a routine check, taking place only due to the sheer number of ex-Death Eaters visiting it regularly. Harry didn't expect any trouble on this visit, so he chose it as the perfect day to bring along his youngest son.

The lack of trouble, however, was slightly troubling for that younger son in and of itself. He found himself extremely disappointed by Draco and Harry's civil greetings at the door, and the businesslike manner in which Harry designated Albus to check the ground floor while he, Harry, went off the explore the basement, with its twisty passages and rumored dungeons.

Albus put up with being shunted into busywork for all of the three and a half minutes it took to convince himself that his father was safely entrenched in the mysterious bowels of the lower levels of the house, before he bolted up all four flights of stairs, straight for the attic.

His new, self appointed assignment of roaming through dusty, maze-like passages, over creaky and splintering floors, so greatly appealed to his sense of adventure that it took nearly an hour and a half of wandering, keeping a desultory eye out for nefarious activity before Albus realized he was completely and entirely lost.

The realization didn't manage to change his manner of wandering, except that now his eyes roamed with more purpose, searching for a downward staircase or familiar landmark. At last Albus came to a door that he thought he recognized as the entrance to the staircase.

Heaving a sigh of relief he opened the door and stepped through, only to find- not an ornate but mildewed staircase but an odd, round, window encrusted room filled with ancient books, tarnished silver, and an old trunk with clothes piled and draped in, on and around it.

Perhaps the most astonishing, however, was the room's centerpiece. Albus didn't know quite what to make of the sagging, wrought-iron bed containing the pale, sprawled body of a boy his own age with a jumble of long, wiry limbs.

The boy's almost colorlessly pale hair and near-translucent, pointed features were illuminated by the faded ray of winter afternoon sun, but the eyes, underscored by shadowy dark half moons, were closed and motionless.

Albus cleared his throat, drawing himself out of his own reverie and the boy out of sleep as grey eyes flew open with an almost supernatural speed, instantly wary.

Albus introduced himself as being a member of the team inspecting the house from the Ministry of Magic's Auror office, and the boy seemed to relax slightly, sitting up and commenting in a voice almost soft enough that the dry cynicism could be missed by the unsuspecting.

"Taking them younger and younger these days, aren't they? The world really must be ending."

Albus blushed and amended his identification, admitting that he'd come along with his father for the day and introducing himself as, "Albus, Al Potter," and offering a hand to shake. The boy ignored the hand, but his expression lost some of its tension, and he replied, "Scorpius,"

"What?"

"My name. It's Scorpius."

"Oh, I-"

"Unfortunate, isn't it?"

The final comment startled a laugh out of Albus, but he replied, after a little thought, "No, it's not so bad. I could come to like it."

Scorpius, however, ignored this comment as easily as he had the previously proffered hand, and changed the subject completely, saying, "So you're here as an inspector, then. Are you going to inspect? Not much here, just books, though I suppose some of them may not be to the Ministry's liking."

"No, no I'm sure your stuff's fine-" Al babbled, flustered at the thought of having to search an actual human being, who seemed to be a decent fellow, but Scorpius cut in in a manner that was slightly anagonistic and slightly amused,

"Why are you so sure? Because I'm a minor, or till at school? Anyhow, if I was a man plotting diabolical things, my father, for instance, I would certainly use my son's youth and relative innocence as a shield. For that matter," and here he began to sound somewhat thoughtful, "Didn't Voldemort start plotting when he was in school? For all you know," for the first time, he smiled, a surprisingly sweet, charming smile, "I could be the next Dark Lord, recruiting followers and planning domination in this very room."

Finally Albus thought of something to say to this odd boy.

"They must be very devoted, your followers, If they're willing to climb up this many stairs just to be recruited."

"I suppose so. But then, I do have a rather compelling personality."

At Al's slightly thoughtful, slightly puzzled expression, the ease of their banter evaporated, replaced by Scorpius's nervousness as he nearly stuttered, "I was joking of course. I'm harmless, I swear."

If Albus had really known Scorpius at this point, he would have known that the painfully direct gaze, the way the wide eyes never seemed to blink, was a sign of Scorpius's discomfort, his nervousness in dealing with a stranger. As it was, he was simply unnerved, but that didn't change the fact that he was lost in a labyrinth he might never escape without help, so changing the topic with as little transition as Scorpius had, he asked, "Do you think you could maybe, uh, you know, point me in the direction of downstairs?"

Scorpius only nodded and grabbed a grubby robe to throw on as he climbed out of bed before striding out the door, Albus in his wake. He made a few odd turns, walking through doors Albus might never have noticed , before coming to a small, twisting stair Albus certainly hadn't come up. Scorpius's parting words were directions to the sitting room. Albus strode off without a thought, but a few seconds later when he thought to turn around an say thank you or goodbye, Scorpius had already vanished soundlessly.

ASASASASASASASASAS

Albus went back to school after the Christmas holidays with no real expertise as an Auror. Nor did he suddenly strike up a friendship with the Malfoy boy, though he noticed him in he hallways more often than before, or buried in the library.

They had no classes together, however, and Scorpius never seemed open to conversation, while Albus would have been hard-pressed to bother either.

Over the course of Albus's fairly uneventful fifth year, that odd day at Malfoy Manor faded to the back of his mind.

TBC….

Please R&R!!

Also, my apologies for any typos. If you mention them I will fix them, but as it is, it's one in the morning, and it'll be remarkable if I actually even get it posted as is.


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N So I hope you don't think I'm taking this in too melodramatic a direction, but I did put it under the genre heading of drama, so I suppose I did warn you.

Thank you again to my two reviewers for the last chapter, Serenedreams and Pandora de Romanus, I hope to hear from you both again.)

The news hit the papers in the first week of the summer holidays, but the Potter household already knew all about it. Hard not to, really, with a living relic of the event in their midst as the entire Potter family plus Teddy Lupin sat around the table at an event which had begun as lunch, but had developed, when Harry arrived part way through with a guest in tow, into a tactless bickering match over the boy.

The headlines the next morning would scream hysterically about "Demon Raisers" or proclaim only slightly less hysterically that "Malfoy Family Again Entrenched in Dark Deeds" and now "Thirty Suspects Held Awaiting Trial" but the boy at the table didn't look like a dark sorcerer or a criminal mastermind, but rather more like a trapped animal, cornered and confused. He was very conscious of being the source of considerable domestic dispute.

"Well, he's a minor, and there's no proof yet that he even knew what was going on, so they could hardly lock him up pending trial, and they couldn't think of anything else to do with him."

"Alright, fine," Ginny Potter burst out at her husband, "but why here? We've got children here, it's a family home, and it's hardly secure-"

"They've gotten him to sign a binding contract saying he'll stay where he's told and do no harm or he forfeits his right to a trial and gets locked up straight off."

"Harry, you haven't answered my question. Why here?"

"No one else was volunteering, as head of the office I had to do something-" his voice raised with frustration with every syllable until Ginny cut in,

"Oh, fine Harry, disrupt all our lives then, it's not like we aren't used to it, but where are we going to put him? Did you think of that? We haven't got a guest room, and Ted's on the couch for the summer-"

Albus was as surprised as anyone else in the room to hear himself offer, "He can stay in my room."

ASASASASASASASAS

As he led Scorpius up the stairs, Albus was embarrassed to realize he was babbling.

"It's a bit different from your room, entirely different really, but then, I've never seen anything like your room, funny that I've seen your room though, isn't it? Anyways, mum told me to make up a cot for you, so we'll have to stop at the linen closet, which is this way."

The silence built as Albus set up the cot, but he broke it as he said, "So I guess you can put our things over there-"

"I haven't got any things. They all got left at the house as evidence."

"Oh." Albus replied, momentarily speechless. He'd somehow managed to forget that his new roommate was soon going to be on trial for some very dark magic.

Suddenly his mother's voice called up the stairs, "Al, your friends are here!"

In the confusion and drama of the afternoon, he had forgotten that he and some friends had been planning to spend the evening at a muggle dance in the village. He turned to Scorpius and began to ask doubtfully, "Do you want to-"

"No, you go on," Scorpius cut in, and added with a wan smile, "I suppose I'll see you soon enough."

"Suppose so." Albus said, and since he couldn't think of anything else to add, he flashed a quick smile and walked out.

ASASASASASASASASAS

Al crept into the, house careful to tread lightly on the worn wooden boards of the familiar floors. The only person in his house who was ever awake at this time of night (or morning) was his father, but there was no light under the door of Harry's study, so Albus determined that the entire household must be asleep.

The entire household except, it seemed, for Al's new roommate. As he crept down the hallway, he made out a line of rather dim light spilling out from under his door.

He opened said door just in time to see Scorpius fall asleep, and in so doing, drop Al's copy of Quiddich Through the Ages which he had apparently been reading so that it fell into a tent over his face. The visual was just a bit too comical for Albus to let go by without a laugh. Displaying the same talent for instant awakening which he'd made apparent on their first meeting, Scorpius jerked awake at the sound and lifted the book from his face.

He raised his eyebrows at Al in silent acknowledgment as he stepped into the room and closed the door. The first thing that leapt to Al's mind, and, incidentally, the first thing he said, was "Not waiting up for me, I hope."

"No," Scorpius replied, completely deadpan, as if deaf to Albus's contempt for the idea and the fact that he'd expressed it., "just couldn't sleep. Trying to change one's mental clock over the course of an afternoon can be a trying business. Plus," and here he allowed a shadow of a grin to show, "you've got to admit it's been a hell of a day."

"I suppose it must have been," Albus said, sitting now on the edge of his bed, taking off his shoes, "but I don't exactly know what happened. Apart from you apparently getting called up on charges."

"You really want to know?" Scorpius asked, but Al's only response was to tare at him like he was crazy, so Scorpius provided the words himself.

"Of course you do. So here's the condensed version. My moronic father and his sycophantic friends somehow found an old book, and a scrap or two of genuine magical talent, managed to raise a fucking demon, but failed to remember the fact that the ministry set up demon-alert charms at the dawn of time, practically. Even though most people consider demon raising to be the stuff of legends, apparently someone's checking on the old charms, and your father and all his hero-boys were on the scene soon enough to head off any real damage. Once they dealt with the demon somehow, they locked up every wizard in a one mile radius for questioning, and now here I am."

Scorpius seemed exhausted by his extensive recitation, and collapsed back onto his pillow. But Al had a few questions.

"So, were you a part of the whole demon-raising thing?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could, in the back of his mind already fancying himself an undercover agent discovering the facts of the case. The reply, a simple, curt "no" was less than satisfactory, but Al was not daunted and pursued,

"But did you know about it?"

The second reply of "no", however, sounded slightly uncertain, slightly lost. Albus decided, with some kind of inner gauge of what Scorpius could or would take, a gauge he'd never known he had, that he'd asked enough questions for the night, so without fanfare he quietly turned out the light.

TBC.

(A/N 2 So now it's taken me two days to type this up. I had it written days before, but I fucking hate typing. I can't help it. I'll soldier on though, because I rather like where this fic is going. So much so, in fact, that it'll take discipline to actually write all the rising action instead of skipping to the end.

And finally, please review. Please.)


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N This is my desperate attempt to get one more chapter posted before I leave for three weeks, so if I don't manage to post again for a bit, I'm sorry. I'll try, though. Also, I'm not entirely sure I've got my legal terms right, so if anyone knows for sure and wants to let me know, I'd appreciate it.

Thanks so much to Pandora de Romanus, the only review I've got so far for chapter three. In case I haven't said it enough, I appreciate it.)

Darkness didn't bring sleep, however, and Albus, although already almost bone-tired, found himself lying awake for what felt like hours. He finally did drift off, but he awoke early. He might have tried to fall asleep again, but having Scorpius in his room was slightly uncomfortable in a way he'd never felt, even while sharing a dorm room at school with six other people, so he crept out of the room instead.

Teddy Lupin was the only person awake, sitting at the kitchen table and nursing a cup of coffee. He always woke early in order to get to work on time, and occasionally he was joined by troubled or insomniac members of the Potter clan, but Albus had always been happy, healthy, and apt to sleep as long as he could, so Teddy was surprised to see him flop down at the table with a thoughtful, slightly unhappy expression.

The reason for Al's malaise became apparent when, after a slightly awkward silence, he asked tentatively, "Ted, what's going to happen to Scorpius after the trial?"

Teddy had been wondering if the boy suddenly living in Al's room had anything to do with his unaccustomed solemnity, so the abruptly introduced topic did not faze him, and he replied confidently, "Well, that depends on whether they find him guilty, doesn't it? And, for that matter, what he's charged with. In the worst case scenario, if he's found guilty of being a part of, or of being too closely associated with the raising, he could face a lifetime in Azkaban."

"But he's a minor, wouldn't that-"

"He's sixteen, Al," Teddy cut him off, "just a year away from his majority. In an offence which could have endangered the entire wizarding community, in other words, in an offence like this, he'll almost certainly be punished as an adult if he's convicted."

"Oh."

Albus looked a little stunned, but after a second he rallied enough to ask another question. "Do you think he did it?"

Albus asked with a soft intensity Teddy had never heard him exhibit before. Because the topic seemed to mean so much to Albus, he took a moment to consider before musing aloud, "Do you know, I don't think he did. It's entirely possible, logically, but when we found him after searching the house, he was just curled up in his bed, in this dingy little tower room. He didn't even look up until we handcuffed him, and the whole time he looked terrified. Not like the ex-Death Eaters and other unsavory types downstairs, they looked triumphant and angry and a little insane, but not scared like this kid. I don't think he wanted any of it to happen."

"No," Albus agreed softly, "I don't think so either."

Teddy wasn't finished, though, and continued, "But I do think he knew about it ahead of time, and if they can prove that he'll face at least a year in Azkaban."

"Just for maybe knowing about it?" Albus asked, incredulous and outraged.

"It's called being an accessory to the crime. He allowed it to happen without trying to stop it."

"He might have-" Albus began heatedly, but Teddy cut him off.

"What do you know about it, Albus?" The question wasn't a taunt, but a genuine, desperate inquiry. "Did he say anything to you?"

Albus sighed. "No. I don't know anything." His slightly defeated tone, however, vanished as he continued, "But I don't think he did anything bad. I don't think he's a bad person."

Here it was Teddy's turn to sigh. "Al," he said, "If there's one thing I've learned from law enforcement It's that even very good people can still do very illegal things. Now I don't know this kid at all, and he seems alright, but even if he was the best hearted human being on the planet, if he had a hand in nearly setting that demon loose on the world for the first time in five centuries, he deserves to pay his debt to our society. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." Albus mumbled, but there was a streak of defiance in his expression.

ASASASASASASAS

It was at that moment that Albus decided that he would be On Scorpius' Side. There was a legal battle in the offing, and plenty of people searching for reasons to lock Scorpius up for life, and the very thought of someone so pale and sarcastic and odd, someone so brittle seeming that maybe the world could smash him to pieces at any time, that thought was enough to twist Albus' insides in knots.

Being on Scorpius' side, however, proved easier said than done, because it was starting to seem like Scorpius was never going to wake up. Albus decided at noon that not only was he sick of waiting, but that he was starting to seem a little pathetic (at least to himself), so he went to finally take a shower.

Of course, by the time he was done, Scorpius had already woken and was walking down to the village to find some books in the muggle library. Ginny told her son this in the manner of a mother who had raised three active, destructive and decidedly unbookish children; with an air of admiration and disbelief. Ginny had had to deal with children who, from the age of three on, were constantly in motion. Scorpius' mother, wherever she was, had probably been able to leave her nine year old alone without coming back to find him rappelling off the second story landing.

Albus was slightly disappointed, but determined not to show it, lest his mother somehow, supernaturally, see from the symptom of disappointment his desire to plan Scorpius Malfoy's legal defense.

ASASASASASASAS

When Scorpius trudged back, hours later, arms laden with books, he stepped into the room he'd been assigned only to see the Potter boy to whom it truly belonged sitting on the bed, apparently waiting for him. The thought was so odd Scorpius decided to discount it. Why would Albus Potter bother to wait or him?

Albus himself was silently struggling over how he could possibly express the fact that he was now On Scorpius' Side Against The World, a concept so vague he had trouble explaining it to himself, despite the fact that he'd been trying all afternoon.

Finally, as his brain was still running a mile a minute on about definitions and allegiances and a hundred other things he never talked about, his mouth took over and asked, completely out of the blue, "So um, do you know what you're going to say in court?"

Scorpius looked entirely taken aback, and Albus realized he had started this in the exact wrong way.

"No." was Scorpius' eventual, curt reply.

"I could," Al stammered, suddenly aware that in reality he didn't actually know Scorpius that well, and that he might sound completely dumb, "I could help you. You know, figure out what to say and stuff."

Scorpius' face was almost entirely blank as he replied, "Well, I imagine they'll give me a lawyer or something," which, Al realized, was absolutely true. "Thank you though."

Although he was mortified, Al couldn't seem to stop talking, and maybe someone had poured veritaserum in his lunch, because despite his complete intention to shut up now and retreat with some dignity, he found himself saying, "Well if you do need help or anything, I'm here. I'd like to help."

Al seemed to have somehow said the right thing, however, because beyond his cloud of embarrassment, his jumble of thoughts he couldn't quite articulate, he noticed that Scorpius was smiling, that sweet, understanding smile that Al had glimpsed once, for just a moment, in their first accidental meeting. Then the smile dropped away and he looked desperately tired as he said, "I'd rather not think of it for a while."

ASASASASASASAS

That night, Albus lay awake again, this time seeing over and over again in his mind eye Scorpius smiling that sweet, easy smile for only a second, a smile meant only for Albus. Scorpius blushing pink over dinner when Ginny asked if he had a girlfriend. Scorpius as Al had first seen him not quite a year before, features peaceful in sleep, long limbs protruding from blankets in an untidy but surprisingly graceful jumble.

Albus knew now that last night would only be the first of many that he'd lie awake thinking of Scorpius.

TBC

(A/N2 So I hope that last section wasn't too sticky-sweet to be believable, and I really hope I haven't used this chapter as an excuse to royally fuck up my characterization of Albus. I'm trying here, but I'm afraid I'm failing, so some feedback would be extremely helpful. In other words, Please Review!)


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